Clove
by turquoisejellyfish42
Summary: What if Clove won the Hunger Games? What would she think? What would she be like? What would her future be? Go inside Clove's head and explore her thoughts, her memories and feelings when she has won. Rated T for the Hunger Games! Note: Sorry I haven't posted a new chapter in awhile... I will post some over the holidays, I promise! Please review. I would love to hear your feedback!
1. All Tied Up

**Chapter 1: All Tied Up**

"Where's Lover Boy?"

"I, um… he-" District Twelve stammers.

I press the blade of a serrated knife into her throat. Little beads of blood bubble out. "Oh, I see. You were gonna help him, right? Well, too bad. We're going to kill him, just like we killed your friend: that girl. What was her name, Rue?"

"No! Don't-"

Suddenly, a strong pair of hands picks me up by the armpits. Struggling, I swing my knife downwards and catch The District Twelve girl, Katniss, by the throat. She screams ear piercingly, and then goes silent, eyes open, lying on the ground. A cannon goes off, somewhere far, far away. I see that the hands pulling me away belong to Thresh, the boy from District Eleven, a handsome muscular boy. A boy that will die soon. For these are the Hunger Games. And I am going to win them. Thresh pins me by my elbows to the wall of the Cornucopia, banging my elbows against the hot metal. I shriek, startled, and yell for my District partner. "Cato! Cato!"

"Did you kill 'er? Rue? Did you kill Rue?" yells District Eleven, still pinning me against the burning Cornucopia.

"No! Cato! Cato!"

"I heard you say her name!" he hits me against the metal horn. I whimper, squeaking out Cato's name once more. He smashes my head into the Cornucopia again and everything goes dark.

. . .

I wake up on a hard pallet, my head throbbing. I'm back in Career camp. I'm sure the whole Capitol thinks me and Cato are in love. Clato. We're not. It's just a way of living. After that explosion, we only have one pallet, one blanket, two bags of apples, and our weapons. That means that we have to share everything. I try to sit up, but it's too hard.

That's when I realize that I'm tied up.

I close my eyes, trying to figure out what to do.

I open my eyes again and gasp. Cato is looming over me, smirking.

"Cato?"

"Yes?"

"Um… could you help me get out of these ropes? I seem to be tied up…"

"Hah!" he snorts. "As if."

"What? Why not?"

"Oh, I tied those ropes around you," he says, feigning nonchalance. I know he's really very happy inside, though.

"Why?" I ask, startled.

"Well, it seems that we are nearing the end of the Games…"

I interrupt, "What about District Five? Kill her first!"

"She's dead."

"What?"

"I found her, lying on the ground with some berries." He shrugs.

"What about Eleven?"

"I killed 'im"

"Lover Boy?"

Cato smirks. "He's prob'ly dead already. After that idiot District Twelve girl dropped the tracker jacker nest, I saw that Lover Boy was defending her. So, I –"

After rolling my eyes for a long time, I cut him off. I had heard that story a million times. "So now, let me guess. Who're you going to kill next? Me? No, not me…" Sarcasm always ticked Cato off.

"No, I'm going to let you starve to death."

I reach stealthily for my knives. '_Just inside my coat. Just inside my coat…_'

"Oh yeah, and I took all your knives. And if you try to move, I'll kill you."

"Crud."

Cato just sits there, smirking at me. I squint into the sun. It must be about four o'clock p.m.

When night rolls around, Cato lights a fire right next to my head, nearly burning my hair.

I call him some unprintable names. When the brute finally falls asleep, I roll away. '_Where could my knives be?_'

Then I see them, hanging from a belt looped around a four- foot high branch on the nearest tree.

Since I can't stand up, I can't get them.

All of a sudden, I start to roll. I must be on a slope. I'm not meaning to roll, and yet I am. Slowly, at first, then quicker and quicker, until I am knee deep in a thorny bush. I curse and wriggle around to try and get out.

I notice that the rope is fraying in a place that a thorn is rubbing, but I don't care. I am focused on escaping. I almost untangle myself, but then fall back in. Then I realize something. My rope. Fraying. Thorns. I realize how that can be used to my advantage.

I rub my shoulder, where the fraying rope is, on a thorn until it breaks free. I shake, releasing the now untied rope from my body.

When I finally manage to struggle out of the thick bramble, I go back to camp, where Cato is snoring quietly. I retrieve my knives silently and pad over to him. I take survey of my daggers and select the biggest one. Best for the last kill. Inaudibly, I raise it and jab down into his neck. He yells, high pitched and pleading, until I pierce his heart and he is silent. There are trickles of blood running from his mouth, glistening in the moonlight. His pale face is frozen with his mouth ajar and those swimming pool blue eyes that I have come to know over these past two weeks are rolled back into his head. His spark is gone, the malicious, cunning gleam in his eyes that was so… Cato.

_Bang._ A cannon goes off in the distance.

I walk slowly back to the Cornucopia. '_I just killed Cato. Cato. My friend. My District partner. My fellow Career._' The hovercraft, I see once I have walked around the lake, has come and carried him off. The arena sky quickly turns to light blue, and I look up for my hovercraft. The one that will take me home.

I have just won the 74th annual Hunger Games.


	2. Cato's Face

**Chapter 2: Cato's Face**

I'm in the hovercraft. On my way to the Capitol. I have thorns and grass in my hair. My knees are crusted in dried blood. My hands have splotches of wet blood. Cato's blood. My District partner's blood. I close my eyes; I try to forget. Out of the darkness, his face looms, screaming. Blood trickles from his mouth.

He is screaming. I am stabbing him. He is dying. The malicious gleam fades from his eyes. I am all alone. I see his face. Cato's face.

I gasp and jerk my eyes open. I am now on my hands and knees. In the hovercraft, on the way to the Capitol. Because I won the Hunger Games. I killed him and won. I killed Cato to win. Was it worth it? I don't know. I don't know. I will forget. I have to forget.

I close my eyes again, breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. But I see it again. I see his face. Cato's face.


	3. You Were Brave

**A/N: Hi! I will try to post a new chapter every Wednesday and/or Friday... Please review. I would love to hear your feedback!**

**Chapter 3: You Were Brave**

I am in the Capitol, gliding around on stiletto heels, in swishy dresses, showing off. Everything is a blur. Except for one thing. Caesar's interview.

I walked onto the stage. There were many exulted faces looking up at me. There were many disappointed faces, too. Caesar was looking at me. I looked away, getting into character. I had to be confident, smart, selfish, and alluring. That's what my escort, Dido Jaerendel, had said. I remembered it. She was wearing a red suit. He skirt was pleated and embroidered with little butterflies. Little butterflies. They didn't have a care in the world. They hadn't killed their friend without thought. Little butterflies. They gave me hope.

Caesar was saying something. "Clove, how did you feel when you killed Cato?"

I sneered, "It was awesome. Oh man, how he deserved it!" Lying hurts. Why did I do that? Why oh why did I do that?

Caesar looked like he was about to laugh and looked out to the audience. I followed his gaze and saw, in the huge screens, that I looked weak, fragile, small, on this big stage. My face was closed, shielded, my fists clenched. I set my jaw and lifted my chin. I would not have these people know what I felt. Weakness, guilt, and sadness swarmed through my brain. Tears welled up, but I blinked them back.

"Well, Clove, you were brave to win."

Brave to win.

Brave to win.

I was brave.

Brave.

"Thank you."

The buzzer went off. I stood up without a word and left.


	4. Hope

**Chapter 4: Hope**

I am on the train home; I sit in the dining car, not eating, staring out the window, thinking, never closing my eyes, for fear of seeing his face, seeing him screaming, dying. 'No,' I remind myself. 'I am brave. I am brave. I am brave.' I repeat that to myself all the way home.

Dido comes to join me and I scoot over silently. She eats foie gras and deep-fried dill pickles, but I just stare at the little butterflies on her skirt. The little pink butterflies, ready to fly off into the world, ignorant to the peril of it, full of hope. Full of hope.

Hope.

...

When I get back to my District, there is an onslaught of bright lights and noises, but they all blend into one blob. People yell questions at me, but I can't hear them. I nod absently, like a bobble-head, but I'm not listening. 'I'm not a bobble-head,' I tell myself. 'I am brave. Not a bobble-head. Brave.'

I stand on the big stage in front of the Justice Building. The crowd cheers. I adjust my posture to not reveal what I feel inside. Hopelessness, unlike those pretty little butterflies.

'I am brave, and most certainly not a bobble-head.' I reassure myself as I step off the stage into my new life.


	5. My Old Home

**Chapter 5: My Old Home**

I am home. My old home. The one I grew up in. The one where I learned how to fight, how to throw knives. Where I learned how to kill. Then, I killed Cato.

I killed him.

Don't think about that. Don't think about that...

I soak in the wood paneling, the soft cotton blankets lying on the couch, the heavy curtains. My feet move by habit, and I walk up the stairs to my room, the attic above the house. I went here all the time, to escape the coldness of the foyer; to hide from my big brother Sel when he used to chase me with a stick until I fell, laughing, on my bed; and to dream about the Hunger Games. This is the room with Hunger Games posters plastering the walls. I remember when I used to dream that someday, I would be in them and I would win. I did win. But I killed Cato for it.

I killed him.

I rip the posters off of my walls violently and shred them with my fingernails. A pile of golden strips of paper lies at my feet.

I scream. I scream for the joy, the relief of being free of the terrible Games. But most of all, I scream for him.

For Cato.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! Sorry if you're finding this boring... I will write some more interesting stuff. Right now, though, I'm just sort of setting the stage, I guess. Or something.**


	6. Counting the Cracks in the Wood

**Chapter 6: Counting the Cracks in the Wood**

Walking down the hall. Counting the cracks in the wood. My mother walking behind me. Echoing footsteps.

She opens a door. I slip into the room. It is white. White walls. White floor. The ceiling is made of gray squares.

I sit on a wooden stool.

The door opens a crack.

"Clove Bellicost?" a meek voice says. It's the nurse.

"Yes," says my mother.

"Doctor Garrett will be with you in a moment." The nurse closes the door behind herself. I wonder why they always do that. Do they have something to hide? Are they experimenting on… people? Animals? Babies?

I'm going to scream, like I did two days ago in my room. I _am _going to scream, sorry. I hear bells. Why do I hear bells? Is there a parade in the street?

I stand up to go look at the parade through the small window.

"Clove," says my mother, "please sit down."

"But I want to look at the parade!"

"What parade? There isn't a parade. Clove, sweetie—"

"Well, how are we doing today?" It's the doctor.

He's grinning. That makes me angry. Why does that make me angry? Why… angry? Angry! I glare at him.

He stops smiling. Instead, he frowns thoughtfully. It's funny. I giggle.

He laughs, too.

They say laughter is contagious. Who says that? Does _he _say that?

His laughing makes me furious. So… furious!

I'm back in the Games. Of course, the Gamemakers would trick me.

The doctor is laughing. I'm in the woods. He's by the Cornucopia. Is that why it's so… bright?

I reach inside my jacket for my knives. They're not there. He must've taken them. He took my knives!

The doctor laughs.

It's not funny! Nobody takes my knives and lives to tell the tale!

The doctor laughs.

I run at him.

I don't like the way he's laughing.

I punch him in the face. He falls to the ground, his hands up in a defensive gesture. I push him to the ground on the hard dirt. I kick him in the jaw. He falls unconscious. I stomp on his ribcage. I stomp as hard as I can. I can almost hear the ribs cracking…

Wait.

I'm in the white room again.

The doctor is on the ground, a little blood trickling from his mouth.

I sit on my stool.

My mother rushes to him and puts her ear to his heart.

"He's alive," she says, and rushes out to get the nurses.

She comes back with a group of young men and women. Nurses.

My mother rushes me out of the room and grabs me by the shoulders.

"Clove," she hisses, "never do something like that again!"

I look down at the black sneakers under me.

"I'm sorry," I mutter.

I count the cracks in the wood.


	7. Nightmares

**Chapter 7: Nightmares**

I awake to a heart beating. It's loud. I lie on my bed, waiting for it to stop. It does not stop. I slowly get up and drape myself in my white bathrobe. The world fades in and out. I close my eyes to stop it from doing that, and I find my way down the stairs with my hands. Vines creep out from the walls and hold my hands behind my back. I have to open my eyes. I'm on the last step. I step down and slip on my furry boots. I follow the heartbeat.

The night is dark, but the sun is beginning to rise over the vast empty fields of District Two.

I barely notice where I'm going.

The sky is stained with wisps of pink and blue, and the world is becoming crisper, outlines of shapes more clearly defined.

The world still fades in and out, though. Why does it do that? It makes me angry, not being able to see clearly. The heart takes me through the town center. People look at me strangely. I wonder why.

Suddenly, the heartbeat stops and male laughter assumes its place. The laughter joins in with a scream of terror.

I break into a run.

I run through the graveyard, through the thicket of trees that lines the eastern border of District Two, getting closer to the sound, yet somehow moving farther away.

I run as fast as my legs will carry me.

The source of the sound is up ahead. I know it. I just know it.

I stop running.

Before me, I see a man burying a casket in the ground. He's digging a hole with his back towards me. The casket is dark purple with golden accents.

The man turns to face me.

He is the doctor. He's smiling, with his lips partway open, letting out a small giggle. The giggle turns into a laugh, and suddenly, he's laughing with a mouth so large that I'm being swallowed. I'm being sucked into the horrifying black hole! Oh, help me! Help me! I'm swallowed, but not before I see what's in the casket.

It's him. Cato. The casket lid is lifted up with the force of the doctor's breath, and I see his face, eyes and nose and mouth bleeding, his face frozen in a permanent look of disbelief and terror.

. . .

I awake with my back up against a tree. The cold sweat drips down the back of my neck. My hands are trembling. I'm in the spot where the casket was. The ground is flat, no hole. The doctor must have finished with the burying of the casket.

I have to get out of here.

I run away. The fence is not electrified. Thank goodness for that.

Somehow, I remember the way home.


	8. My Future

**Chapter 8: My Future**

The door creaks as I step into the house. It is silent except for muffled voices coming from the kitchen. I tiptoe through the hall and put my ear against the door.

There are four voices in the kitchen. One I recognize as my mother. Another is Dido. The other two are male voices, none of which I recognize. What are they doing in there? Are they planning my death? No, no, they can't be. My mother wouldn't let them, would she? No, she wouldn't. Well, she might...

"Stop it!" I yell, crashing through the doorway. All four adults stare at me, mouths agape.

"Clove, honey..." my mother begins.

"Stop it!" I repeat. "I know what you're doing! Just stop!"

"You- you know?" Dido says. "Well then, what do you think of it?" she asks impatiently.

"What do I think of it? What do I think of it? Why would I like it at all? You're plotting my death! Do you think I'll like it?"

"No, Miss Bellicost. We are not planning your death. We are planning your career." This man has a pretentiously shaved beard. It swirls around in intricate patterns. His eyes are brown and almond shaped, so piercing that it's almost like a needle.

"Clove, this is Seneca Crane," says my mother.

Seneca Crane... I've heard that name before... He was the Head Gamemaker! He has choreographed my death before, but I escaped. I don't like the way he looks at me, as if seeing where the best place to stab me is.

That makes me angry. No... furious!

"Aaaaah!" I launch myself, screaming, onto Mr. Crane. He falls to the ground and looks terrified, as if he didn't expect my attack. Does he honestly think I would believe such rubbish? I kneel on his chest and growl in his ear, grabbing his arm and bending it backward, hearing a satisfying crack. He howls with pain, and I giggle happily. His pain is absolutely wonderful.

"Clove!" my mother yells.

"Go away!" I scream at her. "I hate you!" She was planning my death, contrary to whatever lies she might have told me.

"Clove, honey! I love you, but you have to stop this! Mr. Crane didn't do anything to hurt you! We were trying to plan your future-"

"What, my future death?" I say sarcastically.

"No, honey, your future job."

I don't get up, but I stop trying to break Seneca Crane's other arm. My mother looks scared and pleading. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But I still hate her.

"Clove, please?" Tears are coming to her eyes. God, this is embarrassing. My mother, crying in front four adults, one of whom is unconscious because he was plotting my death.

"Fine, whatever," I say icily, feigning nonchalance. I stalk over to the knife drawer and select the biggest knife. My mother and Dido stare at me in horror. I don't care. None of them moves to stop me, although I'm sure they know what I'm going to do.

I walk over to Seneca Crane and stab the knife into his neck. His eyes jerk open and he screams, joining in with the cowardly cries of my mother and Dido. I plunge the knife into his chest. Then he dies. Blood seeps from his eyes and nose and mouth.

I see Cato. He chokes on his last breath, his mouth bleeding, his screams high-pitched and guttural, the light leaving his eyes.

Falling back into the present, I notice my mother and Dido staring dreadfully between me and the corpse on the kitchen floor. The other man - I had forgotten he was here - smiles a frigid smile. I see him mouth the words, "Very good" just before I black out.


End file.
